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“Hey,” I tell her. “Listen up. You need more help sorting this out, call me, okay? I’m not sure what I can do, but I’ll try.”
There’s a longer pause on her end.
“Holt?” she murmurs sweetly.
“Yeah?”
“You’re weird. I just…I don’t get it. What about your contract? If Sierra’s pissed at you now, there’s no way she’ll ever sell to you whether she gets this place or not.”
“I’ll figure something out.” I shrug. “There’s got to be an alternate route that doesn’t wind up ruining everyone. Might cost a little more money and take more legal hopscotch, but it’ll work out in the end. I know it will. Hang in there, honey.”
For a second, she makes a strained sound, probably at the pet name.
Then she just gives back, “Same to you.”
All words aside, I’m at a loss how this ever ends well.
That thought presses down like a boulder as I end the call.
Yeah, I’m already boned.
The city council won’t give me the job if I can’t hand them the tidiest, least expensive proposal possible. And without that gig, all these smaller gigs won’t be nearly enough to get my business settled on solid footing. We’re looking at another six to eight months tops to finish fixing the fire damage around town and throw up a few new buildings.
Then Silverton Construction will be staring down a black hole of nothing.
This is the second time I’ve possibly fucked over my business for a woman.
But I promised Libby help, and I’d rather wind up penniless than break more promises.
What the hell ever.
If this goes south, I’ll just pick myself up a second time, too.
One way or another, I’ll get it right.
I’ll also make sure I do my damnedest to push Libby Potter’s sweet ass in the right direction, too.
5
Lead a Horse to Water (Libby)
I can’t believe I’m going through with this, but here we are.
I’m dressed up nice—even if nice, for me, is a pair of jeans with no holes in them and a button-up blouse—and waiting for my sister and that weirdo Declan to show up at the house for lunch.
There’s a fine line between loyalty and stupidity.
Right now, I feel like I’m tap dancing on it.
But this is honestly my only chance.
I need to talk some sense into Sierra. Remind her we’re sisters, we should be on the same team, and we need to leave other people out of this.
People like Holt, people like Declan, people like Reid Cherish.
This needs to be between me and Sierra alone.
If by some miracle we remember we’re family, if we act like it, we can pull together and save the ranch.
Because even after the way she left, even after the things she did…
If she really wanted to come home, I’d let her.
If she wanted to be sisters again, instead of enemy combatants, I’d be okay with that, too.
I’ve had nobody else since Dad died.
No one but Felicity as my friend, plus a few friendly acquaintances in town.
Truth be told, I miss being a family.
That thought hits me with a sudden sharp pang I’m not expecting, making my throat close up and my eyes get all twitchy and burny.
Like hell I’ve got time for that. Not when I hear Declan’s car pulling up in the driveway—a Tesla far nicer than my sister’s banged-up Taurus.
For a split second, I can’t help but remember Holt talking about his brother and niece when we went out riding.
The way he seemed to ache for something he didn’t quite have, too.
I shouldn’t be thinking about him now.
Or at all.
Just because he did me a favor doesn’t mean I can trust that slick talkin’ snake-man in the slightest.
Not even if part of me actually wants to.
I glance up, hearing footsteps on the porch.
I’ve got company and a lot of slick talking of my own to do.
Hell, maybe I should’ve brought Holt in anyway.
Fair fight.
Two against two.
His tongue’s a lot smoother than mine…and no, thank you very much, there’s no hidden meaning there.
When I hear the knock at the door, I’m ready.
Scrubbing my hands on my thighs, I step forward quickly and yank the door open.
Declan and Sierra stand arm in arm on the doorstep. He’s in another one of his nice suits. Sierra wears another thrift shop designer knockoff that would be nice if she’d just get things that fit her and take care of them.
That’s always been her problem.
She can’t stick to things or mind them much.
She’s killed goldfish that way, plus an old CD player or two.
Is it any wonder Dad left it to me to run everything when Sierra can’t even mend a dress?
My smile turns to gritted teeth when I see the moony way she’s looking at Declan.
Ugh. She’s downright smitten.
Sometimes you just can’t reason with a girl when she’s lovestruck, and Sierra’s always gonna put her flame of the moment over any good sense, good reason, or good family loyalty.
